


this office is big enough for the both of us

by strangesmallbard



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesmallbard/pseuds/strangesmallbard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be just lunch but well, famous last words.</p><p>(Straight up office sex. Well, not straight. But you know. Also some plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this office is big enough for the both of us

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Hope’s fault. She recced me a fic and I got into a mood and suddenly I was writing this. Also thank you to Hope and Morrigan for helping me with edits.

It  _was_  supposed to be just lunch but well, famous last words.

Today Emma brings her a cheeseburger from Granny’s with a side order of salad with balsamic vinaigrette. (“Regina you’re not fooling anyone into thinking you’re a health nut just by ordering salad with your burger.”“Ms. Swan do  _shut up_  and go to work.” “Yes, dear.”)

It’s really the only thought sustaining her throughout two excruciating meetings; one with Leroy regarding the degradation of the mines. He still maintains a firm mistrust and resentment towards her which shs supposes she understands since he’s firmly Team Charming, never mind that she’s dating one. Since she knows how to pick her battles, she tries to remain firm and calm, but he’s  _extraordinarily_ disagreeable no matter her efforts toward diplomacy. And thus by the end of  _that_ , she’s seconds away from throwing fire at his bald head and is late for her next meeting. Which is with Sister Astrid regarding funding for the church. And at least she’s not Blue, but she has this  _insufferable_  giggle-

So when Emma Swan, beautiful, brash Emma with her hideous jackets and half smiles comes swaggering in with two paper bags, she immediately sinks just a bit into her chair, releasing the coiled ball of tension growing since 8 o’clock in the morning. Emma drags the chair across from her even closer and sits in it. She looks for just a moment at Regina before raising a brow.

“Bad day?” Because Emma just  _knows_.

“Let’s just say that the dwarves’ penchant for resentment goes even further than _mine_.” Emma winces and leans forward to stroke her wrist. The contact is all at once like warmth and burning; two somehow separate entities and Regina gives her first actual smile since they woke up in bed together.

“Sorry, babe.”

Regina scowls. Because  _seriously?_  “No.”

“Sweetie?”

“I’d just imagine your father saying that to your mother every time. And unless you want  _never_ to have sex again-”

“Honeybuns Sugarcake?” Emma smirks as Regina turns practically  _red_  and  _I swear to god Emma Swan one of these days_. Emma just leans back in her chair, hands folded behind her neck. Her breasts strain against her tank top, and Regina swallows.

“You’re cute when you’re irritated with me.”

“I’m not  _cute_. I was the terror of an entire realm for decades. Small children run from me.”

Emma rolls her eyes and leans back forward, this time dropping her arms on her desk and propping her chin on her folded hands. “Right. Which explains why Roland yelled  _Regina!_  at the park yesterday and proceeded to give you a flower. Which you now have in a vase on your desk.”

They both stare at the flower; a now slightly wilted calla lily.

Regina just smiles because for the first time all morning she’s  _content._  She’s free with her words, free with her movements. Emma Swan does not have expectations, whether they be positive or negative. Emma teases her and Regina teases right back. It’s their  _thing_ , as Emma described once. Their Unexpected and Beautiful and How The Hell Are We Going To Explain This But Who Cares thing.

Home can be a person, and home can be synonymous to love.

So Regina leans forward and plants a very firm kiss on very soft lips. Emma makes a small sound and reciprocates, stands up into the kiss, and reaches up a hand to cup her cheek, strokes it, begins tucking strands of dark hair behind her ears.

Then the kiss, as it tends to happen happen, becomes a little less innocent as Emma’s tongue presses against her lips and a groan builds up as she lets it in. Emma reaches to cup the back of her neck and pull her closer, but then their bodies are straining over the desk, and Regina suddenly remembers all the paperwork on her desk and if she knows Emma Swan, (and she knows Emma Swan in more ways than one), then in just a few moments Emma will climb over the desk, pushing papers away haphazardly over the floor.

  
And although Regina won’t really care when everything becomes  _hands and lips and bare skin_ , she will care when Emma has to go back to work, and Regina’s carefully organized piles become a tornado result of sexual chaos.

As Emma begins her journey up and over, Regina just barely manages to detach their lips and hoarsely whisper  _“The couch, Emma. The couch.”_ Emma lets her go with an aggrieved groan but it’s seconds before Regina has rounded the desk and presses their bodies together once more. Her arms wind themselves around Emma’s waist at the same time Emma has cupped Regina’s cheeks and pulled her in and the result is a tangle of limbs as they twine themselves together. It ends with Regina’s hands behind Emma’s neck, Emma’s arms around Regina’s waist, palms flat against her back and they’re moving in between hurried kisses to the couch a few feet away.

Regina’s back hits leather with a small  _oomf_ and then Emma’s lips descend on her neck and her eyes practically roll into the back of her head as her lips caress up near her ear, a spot she  _knows_ Regina is particularly sensitive to. She reaches up and under Emma’s shirt, stroking the soft skin as Emma moves down her jaw.

“We were supposed to have lunch, dear.” She murmurs, a little breathless.

Emma stares at her and for a moment Regina thinks she’s going to say something ridiculous and corny like  _you’re going to be my lunch_  and  _well,_  Regina would have become turned on either way because Emma and her bright green eyes, swollen pink lips, mussed blond hair, heaving chest-

But Emma just plainly says, “Fuck lunch.” And Regina  _laughs_ , loud and hearty and reaches up to tuck a lock of blond hair behind her ear and leans up to peck her firmly on the mouth, wraps her legs around Emma’s waist to draw her in. She hisses as Emma’s center makes contact with her own, and nearly growls in frustration because  _too much clothing_. They rock against one another for several moments, quickly building a frenzied rhythm. After realizing herself how frustrating their clothing is becoming, Emma gasps and leans up, and proceeds to rip open the two top buttons on her favorite Dolce and Gabbana shirt and  _oh no you did not just_. Her eyes flash upwards.

“You’re paying for the repairs, Sheriff.”

Emma looks sheepish and leans down to place an apologetic kiss on her collarbone, before lightly running her teeth over the skin. Regina’s breath hitches again as Emma slowly unbuttons the rest of her shirt. She takes the time between each button to press warm lips against searing flesh, ghosting her hands along the sides of her still bra-covered breasts.

“Do you really want,” Another kiss, another button. “People to be wondering just why I’m sending in the Mayor’s shirt for repairs.” She dips her tongue into Regina’s belly button and she’s nearly embarrassed by how she almost  _jumps_  in response. Emma pushes the now fully unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders, discards it somewhere on the floor. She’d be irritated, but now Emma’s now unhooked her bra with quite a lot of finesse, tossed that aside as well, and her hand is coming up to stroke a very responsive breast and  _oh-_

Her lips wraps around her nipple on her other breast, her tongue moving around it in slow swirls. Regina heaves, cups the back of Emma’s head and runs her hand through messier and messier blond hair. She hopes she has a hairbrush somewhere or it’s going to be very,  _very_  obvious what she and the good Sheriff have been doing during their lunch break.

“Emma.” She rasps. Emma switches between breasts, giving the other nipple the same attention. Her back arches at the contact, another groan building. Her center is near throbbing now, each slow swirl of her lips like  _pulses_.

She gently pulls up Emma’s chin, moves her lips over hers once more, the kiss all tongue, slow and devouring. She reaches for one of Emma’s hands, tangles their fingers together briefly before tugging the limb down between her legs. She sucks in a breath when Emma nudges down the zipper and begins stroking over silk panties, thumb reaching up to circle over her clit through the thin fabric. Regina runs her hands over Emma’s tank top, under her shirt again before growing impatient with the thin fabric and pulls it over her head. She throws it somewhere with her Dolce and Gabbana shirt on the floor below them, and begins to rake her nails over Emma’s back, pausing only to remove her bra as well.

Emma’s mouth moves once again to her neck as their bare skin makes contact, the barrier of fabrics completely removed. She’s all warmth and softness and soft gasps brought on by the sensations, together they’re heat and shivers running up and down spines. Emma’s sucking on her neck now and her hand still stroking her center is becoming _completely_  unbearable.

“Emma Swan, I swear to god if you don’t-”

Emma actually  _chuckles_ , the audacity. “You look a little flushed there, Your Majesty.” She does a particularly slow circle over her clit, and this time Regina actually does jump. “A little hot and bothered, as they say.” What an absolute _idiot._

Regina glares at her but Emma just smiles that very brilliant smile of hers and pecks Regina’s upper lip, where her scar is. Regina rolls her eyes but lets a slow smirk spread across her features. She moves her pelvis up ever so slightly, straining against Emma’s hand and reaches up to lightly stroke a breast. Just feather touches, barely there until her fingers ghost a nipple. Emma swallows, barely hiding a groan. Her fingertips run a length down her taut stomach, feeling the jumps and ripples underneath warm skin. She pulls down the zipper as slow as she possibly can and dips her hand in, circles around her already swollen clit, rubbing over it, especially in a certain direction she knows drives Emma mad for several moments before abruptly pulling out. She relishes in the gasp that follows.

“Fuck,  _fuck_. I hate you. I love you, oh my-” Regina silences her with another kiss, and finally,  _finally_  Emma’s hand slips underneath her panties and slides into her. Her fingers immediately find a rhythm against her clit and she resumes clutching and running her nails along her back, letting their bodies slide together in accordance, Regina's thigh coming up to press against her center. Emma’s hand slips in one finger, two, three and find just that  _spot_ , the one that sends Regina to the stars and back, to have nothing but  _heat_  ringing in her her ears, to forget everything but this moment of unravelling and falling into something sweet and bright and wonderful.

Emma runs her lips up Regina’s neck as she gasps and shudders, lips parting as the groan is released, slow and interrupted by gasps and fast breaths. The couch melts away for a second as she comes back to herself, breathing and breathing and Emma is holding her and holding her. Her hand comes up to tenderly run through Regina’s hair, presses a kiss against her temple.

She squeezes next to Regina on the couch, resting her head in the crook between her neck and shoulders, wrapping an arm around her waist. Regina just stares at her. Wonders at the contentment spreading through her limbs, the energy still so charged between them. She wonders if tonight will bring another fight or more of this peace. She wonders if something this beautiful will last, because the world knows Regina isn’t meant for beautiful and lasting things. She never has been. Fate and destiny, whomever is pulling those carefully tuned strings, likes   to dangle happiness over her and snatch it away before it cements. She holds just a bit tighter, but just a bit because she doesn’t want to suffocate. Because Emma Swan’s happiness matters so much, so very much. She presses her lips close to Emma’s and closes her eyes.

Then Emma’s stomach growls. And she snorts. And laughs, presses her face in Regina’s neck.

“We never ate our food.”

“I believe your exact words were-”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. I want my cheeseburger.” But Emma makes no effort to move, instead burrows herself further into Regina’s side and closes her eyes.

She checks the time and sighs in frustration. “Our lunchbreak ended ten minutes ago. I have a meeting in another ten.” She looks down at herself. Nude from the waist up, she’s sure her hair is a mess, makeup all over her face. She then looks at Emma, who looks exhausted. This is why they don’t make a habit out of doing this at lunch breaks, because sex wears Emma out like nothing else. Also she _knows_  Emma’s been more stressed this week. There’s been unknown magical activity in Storybrooke and it’s stressing everyone in the police station out. She strikes the arm wrapped around her waist for a few seconds before reluctantly detaching herself.

Emma groans and tries to do the same, but Regina places a hand on her shoulder.

“You can stay and sleep. I’ll call David at the station and say you weren’t feeling well and went home after lunch.”

Emma lifts her head slightly. “Seriously? You’re okay with me passing out on your couch while you work? I can go home. I know you like your space in the office, Regina.”

“It’s your choice, dear, but today it’s an option. However, don’t make a habit of it. I won’t have citizens complaining that I allow the Sheriff to shirk her duties. They already enjoy complaining  _much_  too often.” She leans down to give one more kiss. She gets up and locates her bra, her shirt, sighing with both irritation and fondness at the top missing button, and the second loose one. Luckily she has a space shirt in her drawer. When she turns back around Emma has gotten up, is stretching. All taut muscles, everything about her golden in the light streaming in from where it’s escaped through the blinds. Regina just stares and stares.

She smiles. “I’m okay to go back to work. Really. But thanks, seriously. I….” She reaches down to grab her bra, her tank top. She looks up and those the smile is still there, her eyes are a little pained around the edges. “I’m not really… _used_  to anyone…” She trails off and swallows, clearing her throat and looking around.

“Me neither.” She catches Emma’s eyes, tries to say something like  _I created barriers too_ and  _They failed me as much as they protected me but they were necessary all the same but now how do I deconstruct them without tearing them down?_ and turns away, clears away the lump in her throat. They don’t say anything as Regina heads to the mirror, hung up on the wall on the other side of the room.

Then Emma breaks the short, pregnant silence. “I wish I could stay here and actually eat lunch with you. I mean, I have at  _least_  ten more petnames to try out.”

She laughs and sends her an arched eyebrow. “You chose work instead of napping, so get to it. Storybrooke won’t save itself.”

Emma rolls her eyes and begins to put on her clothes. “Right. Hey, can that be our next project? A somehow sentient self-saving Storybrooke while we lounge on the beach with pina coladas?”

“I’ll put it on the list.” Regina says as she does up her own shirt. One look in the mirror and  _dear god_ , her lipstick is a mess. And her hair looks like a damn bird decided to nest in it. She grabs the tube and makeup remover, hopes that Frederick is just a few minutes later so she can look as impeccable as before.

“Who’s picking up the kid today?”

“I’m not going to be finished today until five, so it’s you unless you have to work overtime today.”

“Awesome. You know, I really don’t know whether I’m excited or scared shitless for when he starts driving himself around.”

Regina catches her eyes through the mirror. “You and me both. I prefer to think of him as half my size, still needing me to cut up his steak and check his addition and subtraction.”

Emma smiles wistfully, a bit forlorn around the corners. “Yeah. You and me both.” Their shared memories of a tiny boy differ from city to city, but the love is the same.

As Regina makes one last effort to smooth her hair, Emma grabs her burger and grimaces. “I forgot, I’m supposed to meet with uh, Mother Superior? The Blue Fairy? in an hour to see if the fairy dust can figure out just what those disturbances were. I’ll call you if we need a little more heft to the magic.”

She looks back and Emma had just tied her hair back instead of worrying about tangles, and reaches over to give Regina one last, lingering kiss.

“Bye, Muffincakes.”

“You are one petname from the couch, Ms. Swan.”

Emma grins cheekily before making her exit. When the door slams, Regina sits back down and breathes and breathes, and it really _feels_ like breathing instead of straining against her lungs and heart.

Perhaps this happy ending is the one she’ll keep.

(But famous last words.)

She can’t keep the smile off her face, nonetheless.


End file.
